


Five Times Spock Cracked a Smile and One Time Spock Laughed

by NB_Cecil



Series: Spones [6]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Domestic Fluff, Drunkenness, Episode: s01e07 Charlie X, Episode: s03e05 Is There in Truth No Beauty?, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Grumpy!Bones, M/M, Mind Meld, Old Married Spones, Spock Smiles, Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, Uhura sings, Vulcan Harp, Vulcan Mind Melds, spones - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22881640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NB_Cecil/pseuds/NB_Cecil
Summary: Based on a headcanon from a friend (thank you!). 6 scenes set during TOS/the TOS films, and post-canon. Some are related to specific episodes, some are not.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock, Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Montgomery "Scotty" Scott, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock, Leonard “Bones” McCoy & Montgomery “Scotty” Scott & Spock, Spock & Gracie the Whale, Spock & Kollos, Spock & Nyota Uhura
Series: Spones [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563289
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	Five Times Spock Cracked a Smile and One Time Spock Laughed

As soon as the transporter containment field released him, Leonard groaned at the lurch of his stomach catching up with the rest of him. He turned his attention momentarily inward to the place in his mind where his connection with his husband resided. _Spock, darlin’, I’m back_. Turning to the hapless young ensign standing behind the transporter console, he fixed her with his best glower and launched into a tirade about having his molecules scrambled twice in one day.

Spock paused in his deadheading of the petunias and cocked his head slightly to one side, the corner of his mouth momentarily twitching up. “Welcome home,” he said aloud, then went back to tending his window boxes.

——

Slipping into her mind was like diving into a cool, calm sea on a hot summer’s afternoon. His body pressed close against Gracie’s throat grooves, he could feel his heart rate slowing to match the whale’s. The effects of the sucrose were wearing off now, the hyperactivity being replaced by a desire for more measured thought and movement. Spock felt his consciousness infuse with languorous calm as a thought bubbled slowly from Gracie’s mind to his: _Why do you come here?_. He closed his eyes for a moment and gave himself over to the sensation, smiling broad and closed-lipped, as he basked in the serenity, before he focussed his mind to form his thoughts into an answer.

——

Leonard and his colleagues watched carefully, warily, as Spock—Or was it Kollos? Both? Neither?—stepped out from behind the protective screen, removed the red visor and stared in wonder at the group clustered around the captain’s chair, a slow smile spreading across their face.

 _Dimples!_ Leonard’s inner monologue piped up. _Well, dammit, you learn somethin’ new every day. I never knew that green-blooded bastard had dimples!_

——

A rare, shy smile played on Spock’s lips as he plucked the opening chords to _Charlie is My Darling_. Uhura caught his eye across the table, giving him a wink, and they slipped into their well-worn routine. Spock played along, moulding his face into a series of facsimiles of human expression (carefully perfected during long hours spent alone in his quarters with the help of reference images from the ship’s library computer and a mirror—but none of the gathered crowd in the rec room, not even Uhura, were aware of this) in response to the lieutenant’s improvised lyrics, changing from a smirk of knowing indulgence to a slight scowl and a single raised eyebrow when it became apparent that the subject of Uhura’s song this evening was himself.

——

Spock had taken shore leave against his better judgement. He had explained patiently to a grinning Doctor McCoy and Chief Engineer Scott, while the pair lounged in the doorway of his quarters, Mister Scott already swigging straight from a quarter bottle of scotch, that he would achieve just as much—if not more—relaxation in quiet, uninterrupted meditation, alone in his quarters, as he would on any planet, except perhaps Vulcan. Undeterred by this logical explanation, Doctor McCoy and Mister Scott had pushed him bodily into the corridor, at which point he had resigned himself to a weekend of shore leave, and allowed an unusually jovial Doctor McCoy to lead him by the hand to the transporter room.

Much to Spock’s dismay, they materialised in the dimly-lit lobby of a small, seedy hotel in the centre of the main conurbation on a world whose most lucrative trades were alcohol, gambling and sex. Having secured a shabby suite of rooms, the doctor and engineer immediately announced their intention to “go out on the lash”. Spock declined to accompany them, preferring instead to make the best of the situation and use their absence as an opportunity to get in a few hours’ deep meditation.

Ninety minutes into his meditation, Spock heard heavy, thudding footsteps accompanied by slurred conversation approaching down the corridor outside the suite. He pulled himself out of his trance with a sigh as the main door slid open.

“Evenin’ Spock. Ahm bleezin’.” Mister Scott greeted him. Doctor McCoy swayed into the room behind the engineer.

 _How did they become so inebriated so quickly?_ Spock asked himself. A wave of alcohol fumes hit him as Mister Scott flopped down beside him on the sofa.

“Saurian brandy,” Mister Scott slurred, “is strong stuff.” Eyes closing, his head lolled to one side and he began snoring.

Spock got up from the sofa and moved to an armchair, where he sat down once more and attempted to resume his meditation.

Doctor McCoy followed him and perched on the arm of the chair. “We got kicked out of three bars.” He announced triumphantly.

Spock stared determinedly over the top of his steepled fingers at a patch of threadbare carpet.

“Three bars!” The doctor repeated, shuffling closer to Spock on his precarious perch. Spock ignored him. Unperturbed by his silence, McCoy continued. “Seems the drink on this rock is somewhat stronger than it is elsewhere.” 

“Is that so?” Spock immediately regretted asking.

“Yeah. Me an’ Scotty may have embarrassed ourselves just a little.” The doctor shuffled closer still, overbalanced, and toppled in to Spock’s lap.

“Doctor McCoy.” Spock placed the flat of his palm against the human’s chest in an attempt to keep the remaining distance between them intact.

“But it’s fine because now we can spend some quality time with you instead.” The doctor grinned and wriggled in Spock’s lap, wrapping his legs and arms around Spock’s torso and neck. “Isn’t that nice?”

“When you returned from your excursion ‘on the lash’, I was deep in meditation.” Spock really hoped the doctor would get the message.

“Gee, that’s no way to spend your shore leave! Now we’re here you can talk to us.”

“Mister Scott is asleep,” Spock pointed out.

“Yeah, well...” Doctor McCoy glanced over his shoulder at the still-snoring engineer. “You can talk to me, then.”

Knowing he was beaten, Spock lifted his hands in resignation. “Doctor, you are a demanding, over-emotional pest when you’re sober.” Despite himself, Spock couldn’t help smiling fondly at the exasperating human sitting in his lap. “When you’re drunk, you are intolerable.”

“Yeah, but in time you’ll learn to live with my over-emotional demands.” Doctor McCoy leaned in and placed a sloppy kiss on Spock’s cheek.

——

Leonard plunged his hands into the soapy water and set to scrubbing at the baked-on residue on the casserole dish. He hummed to himself as he worked—a snippet of _Camptown Races_ merging into _Row, Row Row Your Boat_ —a smirk playing across his face as he recalled Jim retelling an anecdote over dinner the previous night. 

_Jim. It was good to see him_ , he thought as he paused to rinse the dish and inspect his work. _Still covered in crud._ He returned the dish to the washing up bowl for round two. _We’ve been too long apart... Long overdue a catch-up_ , Leonard reflected. _Good for Spock too. He needs Jim... Hell, we both do._

When he’d contemplated retirement, Leonard had thought it would allow him more time to spend with friends, not less, but—he realised with hindsight he had been naïve—the pace of life had slowed a bit and he‘d gotten busy with various projects around the house, and he and Spock had settled into a comfortable domestic routine, while the friends they’d lived and work with for so many years had moved on with their own lives too. Leonard heaved a sigh of resignation tinged with regret; he was, after all, quite content in this little corner of Georgia, on the on the outskirts of Toccoa, where he and Spock had built a home and a life together, but he couldn’t help mourning the lost close camaraderie of life aboard a starship, and the distance from here to San Fransisco, where Jim had settled upon resigning his commission. He rinsed the dish a second time, set it on the draining rack, and reached for the next item in the pile beside the sink.

He was snapped out of his reverie by the gentle slap of Spock’s sandals against the wooden floor. “Hey,” he greeted his husband.

Spock acknowledged the greeting with a quiet hum of affection in the back of his throat. Wrapping his arms around Leonard from behind, he nuzzled his face into the crook of the human’s neck and took a deep breath in. 

“That tickles,” Leonard grumbled, squirming in Spock’s grasp.

Spock tightened his grip, a thin, high, fleeting giggle escaping momentarily before he regained his vulcan composure, and pressed his face harder against Leonard’s neck. 

Leonard tilted his head, leaning into the touch. “Stop bein’ so damn cute, Spock,” he said.

Spock put his lips close to Leonard’s ear. “You don’t want me to stop.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” Leonard pulled away again before turning to face his husband with a wide grin and sparkling eyes.


End file.
